by Jenni Moen
I skipped those messages. I also skipped the emails. It would take me all day to get through 1256 emails, even if most of them were advertisements and spam. Instead, I dove straight into his text messages.
Naturally, the last received message was from Arden. Unsurprisingly, her name was listed as Hope in his phone. Similar to the message she’d sent to his computer the day after his death, the despair in her text was unmistakable. Very different from any message she would have left on Facebook for the whole world to see.
Without reading them, I began skimming backwards, hitting the ‘Load Earlier Messages’ button when I came to it. I’d skimmed through more than four years of messages. I stopped, not because I’d reached the end, but because they seemed to go indefinitely. The man had been cheating on me for more than four years. Had the man seriously not known that he could delete the entire string every so often to get rid of the years worth of evidence against him?
I began skimming in reverse then, taking more time as I went and reading a few texts along the way. The messages weren’t overtly sexual like I’d expect from Arden. At least, the majority of them weren’t. Most were the normal, every day conversation you’d expect between two friends. However, she wasn’t supposed to be his friend. She’d been my friend.
I laughed bitterly. Though he’d always been ‘too busy’ to respond to my messages, he seemed to have no problem responding to every one of hers. In fact, most of his responses were immediate. It appeared that my ranking in our threesome had been lower than hers.
I skipped forward looking for messages around this date last year and confirmed Kate’s suspicions. The day before this day last year, she’d texted, I’m looking forward to getting away, but I’ll have to sneak away to see my sister for an hour or so.
He’d responded, You’ll be lucky if I let you out of the room.
Here’s a preview of what you’ll be missing. The picture that followed brought bile to my throat that threatened to choke me. I skipped past the naked photo, not wanting to see any more of Arden than I already had.
The phone came to rest on another photo, and I tapped my finger on it to make it as large as possible. The photo had been taken on the school playground during the Thanksgiving celebration at school. With a construction paper pilgrim head perched precariously on his head, Trey was being chased by Jackson who wore a multi-colored Indian headdress. I was also in the picture, captured by accident while talking to a group of moms in the background.
I flipped back to the messages and read the message below the picture. As usual, Jackson is chasing after Trey.
And then the next. Trey just fell, and she wasn’t even watching.
I remembered that day. It had been nothing more than a skinned knee, and I had been right there though Arden had gotten to him first. I’d thought she was helping both of us. I hadn’t realized she was using it to build a case against me.
Though Arden’s message was straight-forward, and I had no trouble deciphering her intent, Jonathan’s response was more cryptic. I’m sure Trey is fine. Jackson won’t have to chase after him for much longer. Soon love.
Soon love?
I skimmed further ahead to try to figure out what he’d meant. However, the message from the next day was unrelated and uninteresting.
I skimmed to December, and there were messages about Christmas presents and parties. My best friend whined to my husband about how hard it would be for her to go to the Dalton’s Christmas party when he would there with me. Jonathan had responded by telling her that he had no choice. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow. You know I’d rather be with you.
I tried to remember the Dalton’s Christmas party. Arden and I had spent the morning together at my house, decorating Christmas cookies with the kids. She’d complained that she didn’t want to go because she had nothing to wear, and I’d sympathized because Jonathan had asked me not to buy a new dress that year ‘since money was tight.’ I’d been a wee bit jealous when she’d shown up wearing a body-hugging dress that I’d never seen before. “Just something I found in the back of the closet,” she’d told me over spiked eggnog and Lauren Dalton’s famous spiced macadamia nut bread.
“I hope I don’t fall out,” she’d leaned over and whispered during the white elephant present exchange. I’d watched her try to harness her boobs into the dress’ plunging neckline and laughed. Because I was worried about her self-esteem after her husband had left her, I assured her that there were plenty of men in the room who were hoping that they would escape again. I hadn’t realized that my husband was one of them.
My only consolation was that he hadn’t come through on his promise to make it up to her the next day. He’d texted her that afternoon to cancel whatever they’d had planned. Something’s come up, and I can’t make it tonight. His excuse was vague initially. When she pressed him, he’d admitted that I’d made plans for us that he didn’t know about. You know I’d rather be with you, he’d said again.
Those were words that I’d heard often. Every time he’d called to tell me that he would be coming home late from the office. Every time he’d missed one of the kids performances because he had to be out of town. Every time he’d had to work through mass on Sunday morning. “You know I’d rather be with you,” was his patented response. Now, I knew that when he’d rather been with her, it was probable that he’d been with her. When he’d rather been with me, he was probably with her.
I kept going to find yet another picture of Jackson. In this one, he sat on Santa’s lap. I blew the picture up and stared at it. His dark hair had been cut into a short buzz. Shocking, light blue eyes looked happily at the camera, and a full-on grin brought out the single dimple in his left cheek that I’d always thought was so cute.
I exited out of the text app on his phone and opened his photos. There were a few here and there of random things, like a racing bike he’d had his eye on at a bike shop in Austin. However, the majority of the pictures were of the children. Trey and Isabelle, riding their bikes in the driveway. Singing in the school Christmas program. Jackson opening a Christmas present. I zoomed in on that one to make it bigger. The toy, whatever it was, was still in the box, but his face was lit up, causing the dimple to make another appearance. I flipped to the next picture and held my breath.
Jonathan sat in a chair. His head was thrown back as he laughed at the little guy on his lap. There was no mistaking where they were. I’d spent almost as much time in Arden’s living room as she’d spent in mine. He and the boy were looking at each other with identical artic blue eyes. A matching dimple graced each of their cheeks.
I couldn’t believe I’d never noticed it. But, why would I? I’d been at the hospital the day Jackson had been born. I’d congratulated Coleman on the new baby boy who everyone agreed looked just like him. Like any baby, his smashed little face looked like nobody and everybody at the same time. I could see now that Jackson had grown into his looks over the last four years, and there was no mistaking which parent he favored now.
I wondered when the picture had actually been taken. Had Jonathan left our family and snuck away on Christmas morning? It was unbelievably brazen and so completely Jonathan.
Had he considered Jackson and Arden to be his family, too?
I returned to his text string and sped through the rest of the messages. The closer I got to what I knew would be the end, the more agitated and demanding Arden’s messages became. She complained that it had gone on long enough. Leave her, she begged as if I weren’t her best friend. I’ve done my part. It’s time for you to do yours, she’d demanded. My finger flew across the screen, scrolling up again to more than two years before, wanting to confirm what I suspected.
Coleman had walked out on Arden during the fall of the previous year, just a few weeks after Jackson had turned two. She’d played the woe-is-me card, crying on my shoulder for months. We’d cursed his name over numerous bottles of wine. I bought a pin-the-tail on the donkey game from the dollar store, and we’d laughed maniacally as we
pinned tails on the jackass in the family picture that hung in her living room. However, it had all been a lie.
Coleman hadn’t been to blame for the implosion of their marriage.
He knows, her text read. I wondered if she’d been panicked. Had she wondered if Coleman would come running to me?
About everything? Jonathan had asked.
No. Just about us.
Jonathan’s next response had been calm, cool, and collected. He won’t tell her. He hadn’t been worried at all. When she’d become hysterical, he’d assured her that he was on his way.
Jonathan to save the day. That had been my husband. Always in control of every situation. To my knowledge, no one had ever gotten the better of him. Had I been in his shoes, I would have been worried. Petrified. But Jonathan wouldn’t be. He’d probably confronted Coleman Fitzgerald himself.
My anger reignited. I’d known Coleman and Arden for most of my adult life. Before we’d had kids, we’d gone out for dinner almost every weekend as couples. When the business took off, we celebrated with them. When we got finally pregnant with Isabelle, Arden had thrown my baby shower. After one kid turned to two and two turned to four between us, we settled on take-out every Friday night. But we rarely missed a weekend.
We’d been a foursome. No one invited Arden and Coleman to do anything without inviting us as well. The reverse was equally true. When he had left Arden, I’d felt as betrayed as she had.
But I had blamed the wrong person.
“What did you find?”
My head snapped up to find Kate standing in the doorway. Her eyes were soft. Sympathetic. Knowing.
“Hang on,” I said, holding up a finger. “I feel like I’m on to something.
She walked to the side of the bed. “Scooch over.”
I made room for her to sit beside me while still reading text message after text message. Most were benign. The usual stuff that you’d expect between two liars who shared a secret love child. If that were usual.
I skipped forward in time again, returning to the months just before Jonathan’s death. Kate rested her head on my shoulder, reading along with me.
There were more cancelled dates. More ‘You know I’d rather be with you’ messages, and I took some comfort in the fact that, in the end, he’d treated us like equals. The things he told her weren’t that different from what he had told me. He had to work late. He was distracted because of things going on at the office.
Arden’s dissatisfaction grew. She was vocal about her frustration and unhappiness, clearly expecting more from Jonathan’s empty promises than he delivered. Yet, Jonathan’s responses remained steadfast and placating.
You’re never going to leave her.
I’m working on it. Things are in motion.
When?
Soon.
Kate lifted her head from my shoulder momentarily. “He was leaving you.”
“So it would seem.” The news of this wasn’t devastating to me any more. At this point, I was expecting it. I plowed ahead, hoping to find some clue as to his plan. As I moved through each message, reading every one now, I found no hints.
Until the evening of his death.
Put a stop to it, he’d said.
It’s too late.
I can’t do it.
I can’t call it off. He’s already in place.
PUT A STOP TO IT. I’m not going through with it.
She’s at the kitchen now. I’m coming over. Erase everything.
There were no more messages from that day. The last messages on the string were from the days that followed. Messages sent by Arden. Messages that she knew would never be answered. Messages that she’d sent out into the abyss, hoping that somehow he would hear her despair and know that she’d loved him the most.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Kate asked.
“That they were planning to kill me?” I let out a huff of air.
“The fire?” Her expression was perplexed.
I leaned my head back on the pillow and squeezed my eyes shut, remembering a day that I’d tried so hard to forget. “No. It was investigated. The fire started because of the candle on the mantel. Jonathan was a dog, but he never would have risked Trey’s and Isabelle’s lives.”
She winced. “What about the insurance?” It was something I was questioning too.
“I don’t know why he bought policies for them. But I’ll never believe that he would have hurt them. He could fake it with me, but he loved those kids.”
She nodded in agreement. “I know. You’re right.”
“There had to be another reason.”
“It does explain why he didn’t cancel your insurance policy when he cancelled his.”
“Right. If he planned on killing me and running away with Arden, he didn’t need an insurance policy with me listed as the beneficiary.”
She gasped. “Do you think there’s another policy out there with her listed as the beneficiary? Is she sitting on half a million dollars right now?”
I leveled my gaze on her. “I don’t know. Surely he wouldn’t have been that stupid.”
“He was stupid enough not to erase his phone.”
“True,” I said, rubbing my temples. I could feel a headache brewing. I was on information overload, and my head threatened to explode. “You know what? I don’t even care. If she profited off his death, she can have it. Besides, she has his son to raise now. I’d be willing to bet there is a policy with Jackson’s name on it too.”
“What?” Kate’s wide eyes reminded me that I hadn’t told her about Jackson. They say a picture is worth a thousand words so I showed it to her. I didn’t have to say anything else. She looked at me in shock. “You have to be fucking kidding.”
I tossed the phone on the bed. “My thoughts exactly.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “Why are you so calm? I’d be losing my mind right now if I were you. I am losing my mind right now for you.”
“I think I’m just numb to it all. Or maybe I don’t care any more. I wanted answers, but now that I have them, I’m not sure that I even need them.”
She reached for a bank statement lying near my feet. A few highlighted yellow lines glared at me. “Well, I do! I need answers. And Jackson being Jonathan’s son explains a lot of things.”
“Like what?”
“I went through your bank statements while you were sleeping. Only I didn’t just go through the last few of months. I went back an entire year. You said that he paid for the kids’ school twice one month. But, I looked, Grace, and he paid for the kids’ school twice every month during that entire year. But just like you said, the second payment was always half.”
I shrugged. “He was paying for Jackson’s, too.”
“Exactly.”
“And the fifty-five dollar checks that he wrote every month?”
“Yeah.”
“I found one where I could read the signature on the back. Steve Knight signed it.”
Steve Knight owned the only karate studio in town. “Our kids didn’t take karate,” I muttered.
“Right? But does Jackson?” Her brown eyes were dark and ominous.
“Yes.”
She shook her head in disbelief. “He had another child that he was paying for, and he didn’t even really try to hide it.”
“It was hurting us though. Our bank accounts were down to next to nothing when he died.”
She reached for a different statement. “No, he was transferring everything to a different account. Look at this. On the fourteenth of January, he transferred five thousand dollars out of your joint account. There’s another transfer for three thousand the month before that. I think he was siphoning off money for when they ran away together. I don’t know.”
She was silent for a moment while she processed everything we’d figured out. “So what do you think they had planned? They were going to kill you and run away together with all four kids? That’s so crazy.”
“As the trustee of my money, he w
ould have had all of that, too.”
“Do you think Coleman knew?”
“About Jackson? No. There’s a text where he asks if Coleman knew about everything, and she said, ‘No. Just us.’”
I mentally ran through everything I’d read. Arden’s text message to Jonathan rattled around in my head. I can’t call it off. He’s already in place.
“Holy shit, Kate! A man attacked me the night of the fire. I was late getting home from the kitchen because I was mugged in the parking lot. He had a knife and took a swipe at me. It nearly scared me to death.”
“And you’re just now telling me?”
“It seemed inconsequential after everything that happened that night.” It didn’t seem so inconsequential now, and I recounted the attack to her in as much detail as I could remember. “When I got home, he was visibly upset – drinking, which he never does. I just thought he’d had a bad day and was mad at me for being out late. But now, I think he wasn’t expecting me to walk through the door.”
She’s at the kitchen now. I’m coming over.
I wrung out my hands. “There was a glass of wine on the coffee table. He handed it to me, and I thought it was for me, but I remember complaining about our crappy dishwasher because there was lipstick on it.”
“Do you think she was there before you got home?”
“She had to be. Her text said that she was on her way. She was at my house.” I shuddered.
She leaned back and threw her hands in the air. “Lying cheating assholes! Too bad nothing worked out the way they planned, huh?”
“No,” I agreed though I couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Maybe everything would be different if the man in the parking lot had done the job that I now assumed Arden or maybe even Jonathan had paid him to do.
“So Paul saved you?” she said.
“Yeah. When I told him I was glad he was there, he said, ‘I’ll always be here for you, Grace.’” Despite everything, I couldn’t stop a smile from creeping up on my face.
She grinned. “Do you need him to save you now?”